


Crystal Clear

by onelongwinter



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:27:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23727562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onelongwinter/pseuds/onelongwinter
Summary: When Ignatz (reluctantly) helps Sylvain, he's determined to get him to repay the favor. Along the way, Ignatz discovers a secret that even Sylvain might not know about himself- Sylvain needs glasses.
Comments: 11
Kudos: 101





	Crystal Clear

**Author's Note:**

> Changing it up a little with something a little more humorous! For Eri, who came up with the idea in the first place.

Everyone at Garreg Mach has, despite their misgivings, found themselves hiding Sylvain Jose Gautier at some point. Most people do not want to. Most people do not intend to. And yet, despite that, Ignatz has found himself kindly explaining to the furious woman in front of him that, no, Sylvain is in fact not hiding behind the stable door but instead escaped down to the marketplace. 

Sylvain hides there patiently as Ignatz finishes feeding the horses, then gives him a cheery wave. 

“Thanks Iggy-”

“Please don’t call me that.”

“Ignatz, I mean. I’ll make this up to you, I promise.” And with that, he clambers through the stable window. Ignatz finds himself hoping he falls into a misplaced barrel on the other side and gets stuck, but no such luck. Sylvain makes it thoroughly unharmed. 

Ignatz manages to forget about the incident, and shoves Sylvain out of his brain. He has better things to worry about. 

* * *

It’s ridiculously hot in the classroom. Sweat is running down his back, and no one else seems to be handling it any better. If he were wise he would be back in his room, but he had to sign up for Hanneman’s weekend seminar during the worst heat wave Garreg Mach has suffered in years. 

At least he’s not in as bad shape as the Kingdom students. Felix wobbles slightly in the chair in front of him, and Mercedes’s shirt is soaked through with sweat. He tries to not look at it too hard. 

“In the old days, people thought Crests might influence the type of elemental magic it’s bearer was predisposed to, but nowadays we know better. But you can still see this in early Imperial spells. For example, on page twenty-four of your textbook you can see examples of healing magic circles incorporating the Crest of Cethleann.”

Hanneman surveys the classroom, and Ignatz can barely even summon the energy to feel guilty at how disappointed he looks. He claps his hands, and the students collectively jump. 

“This is a great opportunity for a group project! Form groups of four, please!”

Ignatz wipes the sweat off his glasses, and out of the corner of his eye he can see a very short, white blur making its way towards him. Panic bubbles up in his throat, and he desperately reaches out for an escape route. 

“Sylvain!” He shouts, flinging himself across the desk to grab onto his arm. “That’s right, we said we’d work together!”

Lysithea eyes him suspiciously, and he can see something that may be guilt on her face. 

“We di-?” Sylvain starts to say, and Ignatz mouths  _ you owe me _ to him. “I mean, we did! I’m in a group with Mercedes and Annette, so we have four already! Sorry Lysithea, but Felix doesn’t have a partner yet!”

“Oh, of course. Sorry,” Lysithea says, and she turns on her heel with a huff. 

“Damn, Ignatz. Breaking hearts out there. And I thought I had girl troubles,” Sylvain remarks. 

“It’s not like that!” He protests, as Annette lays the parchment out on the floor. “We just… I think she hates me.”

“I don’t think she hates you,” Mercedes says, rubbing little circles on his back. “I think she’s just a little stressed and is taking it out on you.”

Hanneman is excitingly sketching magic circles on the board, and Ignatz pushes his glasses and peers up at them. Even in the heat, he hasn’t lost a single ounce of passion as he explains how the magical formula for a fire spell has changed. 

“Now, take a look at the differences in pre-Imperial regional magic. I want each team of four to pick a spell and draw a magic circle for each region and compare them to current day. We’ll then test them all out! It will be a very enlightening experiment.”

“Magic circle drawing?” Sylvain groans. “That’s baby stuff.”

“Come on, Sylvain,” Annette says. “It sounds super interesting to me! Besides, you’re really good at this kind of stuff.”

“Hey, shhh,” Sylvain says, dipping his brush into the ink. Despite his protests, Sylvain _is_ actually really good at this. His brush strokes are quick and neat, and before Ignatz can even comment on it Sylvain has already drawn a rudimentary Blizzard spell. 

“That was fast,” he says, leaning over it. “You have a good painting technique. You weren’t kidding when you said this was baby stuff for you.”

Sylvain laughs a little at that. “Nah, it’s nothing that impressive. Gautier territory is the farthest north, and we’re pretty isolated. A lot of the border defenses still use ancient spells, and Sreng never switched to Adrestrian magic systems. Don’t ask me to do anything else, I’m absolutely useless.”

“That’s a lie,” Annette announces, sketching out her modern spell with charcoal. “You can at least check my work. I know you’re good with math. Ignatz, how’s the Alliance circle going?”

“It’s… going,” Ignatz says, trying not to sound too distressed. “I’ve never studied this kind of magic before, truthfully.”

“That’s right,” Mercedes says, tapping her cheek thoughtfully. “You didn’t go to the Sorcerer’s Academy. I’d almost forgotten, since you’re so good at magic.”

He blushes a little, and bends down to work on the alchemical formula. 

“Okay, so what’s next?” Sylvain says, and he leans over, staring at the board. Ignatz glances up at him, and frowns. 

Sylvain’s head is tilted up, eyes scrunched and squinted so much they’re practically closed. He leans forward as far as he can go, then gives up, shrugging. 

“Ah, Sylvain,” Ignatz says, sliding his half finished paper to the side. “Pardon me for being so forward but… can you… see the board at all?”

Sylvain freezes, then turns to stare at him. “What?” He says, flat and a little shocked. 

“I’m sorry, I just noticed that you seemed to have some trouble seeing the board, I used to have that problem as a child myself so I just thought-” 

“Actually, now that I think about it, your grades are always better when you sit at the front of the classroom,” Annette says, cutting right through his worried rambling. 

“How do you know my grades?” Sylvain protests, and she brushes him off. 

“I compare my grades with everyone in the class, it helps me review,” she says. “It’s entirely possible you could be a little nearsighted.”

Ignatz stands up and strides to the front of the classroom. Hanneman looks up at him and is about to scold him, when Ignatz holds up his hand. 

“Sylvain, how many fingers am I holding up?” He calls out, and the other groups in the classroom turn to watch. 

“I’m not doing this, Ignatz!”

“Two,” Felix calls out, and Dorothea shoots him a death glare. Ignatz sighs. 

“Okay, this time with no commentary, how many fingers am I holding up?” Ignatz says, holding out two fingers again. Even Hanneman seems to be engaged with this. 

Sylvain squints, and shrugs. “Four?” 

“Wow, you can’t see shit,” Felix heckles, and Dorothea digs her elbow into his side. 

Ignatz walks across the room and slides his glasses onto Sylvain’s face. “There, that must be a lot better, right?”

Sylvain doesn’t even look at him, and Ignatz smiles a little. Sylvain fiddles with the lenses, moving them back and forth, peering over the top of them and then back through them. 

“It’s sharp,” he says at last. “I forgot that candles don’t really have that halo. Hold on a minute.”

The classroom door slams faster than anyone can react. Ignatz stumbles to his feet. 

“My glasses,” he yelps. “I’ll be right back, sorry.”

A lot of people assume he’s completely blind without his glasses. He can’t see well, but he doesn’t need to see well to find a six foot tall man with bright red hair staring in wonder at the clouds. 

“At some point I just sort of… forgot what they looked like, I guess,” Sylvain says as he approaches. “Sorry, here’s your glasses back.” Ignatz pushes his hands away as he offers them back. 

“No, no, hang on to them for a little while longer. I mean, I will need them back sooner rather than later, but take your time! I remember when I got my first pair, I spent so long just staring at the stars.”

“Nah, besides, we should get back to work, Annette and Mercedes are waiting for us.”

Ignatz fiddles with his glasses, carefully wiping them on his shirt. “You know, Sylvain, you’re actually pretty reliable, aren’t you?”

Sylvain looks like a deer caught in the sight of his arrow. 

“That’s an exaggeration,” he laughs. “I’m good for nothing, stupid, and cruel. You should stay away from me, you know.”

“I don’t think so,” Ignatz says, holding his glasses up to the light. The sunlight filters through, reflecting onto the ground. “I’ll give you the name of the craftsman who makes mine.”

“Thanks, Ignatz,” Sylvain says, shading his eyes from the sun. “But I’ll pass. I don’t want to look like a dork.”

Ignatz shoots him a look, but truthfully, he isn’t very sure if Sylvain can even see it. “I’m sure they’ll make you look very cool,” he says, voice drier than the Sreng Desert. “I’ll give it to you anyway, in case you change your mind.”

It’s not that he’s afraid to look stupid, he thinks as they walk back to the classroom. Sylvain moans and complains and tries to pretend he’s slacking off even as he corrects Annette’s calculations. He wants to look stupid. It’s probably easier this way for him. 

Everyone in Garreg Mach finds themselves hiding Sylvain at some point, and maybe, Ignatz notes, that includes Sylvain himself. Still, despite his griping, Ignatz notices that he slips the paper with his recommendation into his pocket when he thinks no one is looking. 

It must be sad, he thinks, as Hanneman praises their project and finally releases them from the stuffy heat. Living that way must be stifling, and if there is one feeling Ignatz knows best, it’s stifling. It’s taken some perspective, but that’s to his friends he thinks he can see it clearer now, He’s tired of hiding and running away. Maybe one day, Sylvain will be able to see it, too.

“L-Lysithea!” He calls out. The young girl whips her head around, and before she can stop herself, relief spreads across her face. “Do you want to get dinner together?”

“I’d- I’d like that very much,” she says, and her tone is careful. Kind. She’s trying, and he wants to try too. “I heard there will be pastries for dessert today.”

“Well then, we better hurry before Raphael gets there,” he says, and Lysithea yelps and breaks into an undignified sprint. Ignatz laughs, and runs after her. 


End file.
